


The Return Visit

by itstonedme



Series: Beguilement Verse [11]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-15 00:28:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itstonedme/pseuds/itstonedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern day AU.  In this chapter, Orlando returns to Amsterdam for a weekend visit with Elijah.  Part 11 in the Beguilement universe.  Originally posted on LJ <a href="http://itstonedme.livejournal.com/68837.html#cutid1">here</a><a></a> with reader comments.</p>
<p>Disclaimer: A work of fiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Return Visit

At the end of the work week, Orlando catches the 18:45 flight out of Gatwick for his weekend visit with Elijah and lands at Amsterdam's Schipol a short seventy minutes later. While the plane taxis to the gate, he adjusts his watch ahead one hour. 

*

Elijah stands silently at the counter of his windowless kitchen, the fingers of both hands lightly touching the cool stone edge, staring at his mobile lying silently on the surface between them. Darkness has crept into his apartment now that the sun has gone down; only the recessed lamps beneath the cupboard before him illuminate the room. Behind him, beyond the doorway to his living room, a few small candles flicker long shadows on the walls and furniture. Over to the right through the opened French doors of his bedroom, a lone bedside lamp casts a coppery corona on the wall. 

Elijah watches the phone and takes a deep breath, not terribly surprised to find it shaky. Sweat has risen on the palms of his hands. He dries them against his jeans, then returns his fingers slowly and precisely to where they rested a moment ago. He has given up trying to still his thoughts; every effort to focus them has bled out into imaginings he hasn't been able to dispel all week. He laughs aloud at the absurdity of it. He has tangled the sheets of minor royalty, been invited to official state functions, been served as the main course at sexual banquets too numerous to count, and yet tonight, he, Elijah Wood, is nervous about meeting a man.

_How very jejune,_ Ian might say.

Yet Elijah can't help but smile at his racing heart. There's freshness and promise in this feeling.

Nevertheless, when the phone rings, he jumps.

"All right, I'm back in the land of tulips and _appelflappen,_ " Orlando tells him as he exits his gate into the terminal. "Have you thought about dinner?"

Elijah laughs and spins away from the counter, cell phone in hand, looking out through the doorway towards the living room but seeing only Orlando's face. "Food?" he teases. "The only thing I'm thinking of ingesting comes wrapped in about six feet of skin. Did I just say 'comes'?" 

"That is so grade school," Orlando squints. "But I could get all over it," he adds, laughing.

They continue their conversation, homing in on each other, as Orlando queues for a cab, more still as he settles into one, and all through its journey into town. By the time the taxi draws up to the curb, Elijah is on the sidewalk in front of his flat in the chill evening air, coatless in a light pullover. They end the call while Orlando settles the fare inside the cab.

He barely has time to step onto the curb and drop his duffel bag before Elijah steps forward and slips his arms beneath the open leather jacket. They greet each other with the heat of breath and warm lips and tongues.

"You're shivering," Orlando laughs, arms wrapping around to rub Elijah's back. "Mmmm, this is nice," he comments on the soft cashmere beneath his fingers.

"Just glad you're here," Elijah whispers, lips on Orlando's neck and jaw, searching upwards again for his mouth. Truth is, it has been years since Elijah has gone five days without sex, give or take an incomplete, doesn't-count, audition blow job courtesy of Karl, and it has been even longer since he has wanted to be with someone as much as he wants to be with Orlando right now. 

Somehow, they make it into the foyer without breaking their embrace, bags and elbows knocking door frames, laughter punctuating their kisses. They grope each other in the lift up to the flat and only stop once they've walked through the doorway.

Orlando comes to a complete halt as the span of several years slams into him, eyes wide as they sweep the dimly lit interior. It might merely have been yesterday since the first and only time he had been in this flat. He can almost smell freesia in the air. 

Elijah closes the apartment door and stands motionless behind him. "Welcome back," he says quietly.

Orlando puts his bag down and walks silently past the kitchen into the living room. The wicker and glass table where they once had eaten hasn't changed, nor have the sofa and cushions. The candle pots on the faux mantle still glimmer within their glass chimneys as they once did. It is too cool outside for the balcony door to be opened; the drapes hang quietly in front of them but in his mind, Orlando still sees them billowing softly. He turns towards the bedroom and approaches it, stopping at the doorway to stare at where they had once made love, for despite the circumstances, that is indeed how his memory regards it. He hears Elijah come up behind him, feels his leather jacket being lifted from his shoulders, down his arms, the leather squeaking as it is draped across the back of a nearby arm chair. 

"It's our new bed," Elijah says, snaking his arms around Orlando and pressing his lips to his shoulder. "I had it delivered yesterday. I would have liked something bigger, but the room is too small, as you can see. So I had to settle for a queen."

"Seems fitting," Orlando jokes, but what he's really thinking is how considerate it is of Elijah to provide a mattress upon which he hasn't lain with other men. For the weekend, anyway. 

"I thought you might see the humour in that," Elijah smiles. "Sit. Try it out. Do you feel like eating now or later?"

Orlando rests on the edge, bouncing gently on the mattress. "How about we just have some wine," he says because, truth is, now that he's back in this room, food isn't a priority. "We'll eat later."

Elijah has spent too many hours in the past few days weighing the timing of what he needs to tell Orlando. Perhaps against his better judgment but mostly because it needs doing and he can't contain it a moment longer, he sits next to Orlando and takes his hand. "I didn't want to tell you this over the phone."

Something in Orlando's gut recoils as the spike of adrenaline hits it. But he squeezes Elijah's hand and smiles wanly. "You're pregnant."

"Fuck off," Elijah laughs, but a glance at Orlando's face tells him that his is not the only heart pounding hard enough to cripple breath. "Hey," he soothes. "It's not bad news. I've made the decision to no longer see clients."

Orlando stares at him. "What?" he says blankly. What the fuck is Elijah saying? That he won't be bringing johns back to his flat anymore? "You mean here?" he asks. "Is that why the new bed?" He brings Elijah's hand to his heart. "I have never asked that, you know that." 

"Orlando," Elijah says with a soft smile. "Not just here. I'm giving up sex for hire."

Orlando coughs out a laugh, the type of pathetic noise one makes in disbelief. He searches Elijah's eyes, noting the pulse beating rapidly just below Elijah's jaw. "You're not fucking with me," he says because one single sentence – or was it two, he can't think – isn't enough to topple the vast walls he's built around hopes he's hidden for a long time. And weren't they just joking a moment ago? 

"I'm not, although that's exactly what I'd like to do and soon, I hope." Elijah's smile is small, uncertain.

Orlando doesn't say anything. He's still trying to sort this out because the walls he's built are thick and high.

"This is good news?" Elijah asks tentatively.

Orlando slowly brings his arms up, pulling Elijah close, tucking him beneath his chin. "Yes," he finally says. "Yes."

Elijah can hear and feel the wildness beating against his ear. "Orlando," he whispers. "I couldn't tell you earlier until I had worked it through, what I would do, how I would feel about it." 

"This is good news," Orlando repeats, rubbing his cheek against Elijah's crown, his grip tightening. 

Elijah closes his eyes and listens to the thunder of Orlando's heart. God, he thinks, these are early days yet between the two of them. There is so much about each other they've yet to learn.

"I needed to set myself up for what I'm going to do, and we need to talk about that."

But Orlando isn't there yet. ""You are sure of this?" he asks. 

Elijah laughs softly. "Why do people keep asking me that?" 

"I'm so afraid you'll come to regret what you are giving up, what you are willing to sacrifice right now."

Elijah sits up. "Orlando, this is not a sacrifice, believe me. If anything, it's the repayment of a gift. This is the most I can give you because of everything you've given me. Do you not know that?"

"What have I possibly given to equal this?" Orlando asks, incredulous. 

Elijah shifts to look at him directly. "Do you remember last month when we met on the balcony at Ian's opening, when you said 'I can't do this' and walked away?"

"Yes. Not easy to forget."

"That comment was like a punch to my gut," Elijah says.

Orlando frowns a little but says nothing. Elijah has never told him why he came to his hotel door later that night.

"I knew that you couldn't pretend that your attraction to me and your ideal of fidelity didn't matter. And here's the thing: I realized that as much as you couldn't pretend, I could. In fact, I realized at that moment that I had become so good at pretending, that I believed it. And yet there you were in all your miserable honesty, the man I'd not been able to forget for nearly two fucking years, walking away from me. I was used to getting what I wanted or dismissing it out of hand, but neither of those were working right then, and it pissed me off. All I wanted to do at that moment was _deck_ you for shattering this careful façade I'd built. And then I wanted to take you to bed and fuck you to within an inch of our lives."

Orlando's smile is small, but he stays silent.

"Yeah, I know," Elijah says facetiously. "Hardly mature. Pretty limited range of responses. But you turned my world upside down with that little exit. I didn't know if you were involved with someone then; you'd never told me the first time we'd met. But it didn’t matter to me. All I knew is that I wanted you in my life, that I _needed_ you in my life simply for the good you could bring it."

"Hey," Orlando starts to say.

"No, wait. Not only that, but during this past month, you've continued to bring it. You've continued to put everything you value aside for me, even though it goes against your very nature. You give me that with no expectation in return except that I keep seeing you. So what I'm doing is _nothing_ in comparison."

"It is everything," Orlando whispers. "It is your life."

"It is my _job,_ " Elijah smiles. "Cut me some slack. There's more to this boy than my obvious bedroom charms." 

"I never doubted that," Orlando says.

Elijah's smile is wry. "To be honest? Until a week ago, I did. I had no idea how I could make this change. I stayed with you in London on blind faith and nothing more. Every day that you went to work, I walked and shopped and cooked and thought about things, and the next day, I did the same, and the next day, the same, all the while asking myself, what else can I do? What the hell else it there for me? And it was right there. I can run a business. And I can cook."

"A restaurant?" Orlando asks, the riot in his head beginning to settle. "Catering?" Elijah is serious. But then, when has Elijah _not_ been serious? 

"The food business I still need to learn," Elijah says. "But the fucking business I already know, and it's going to be my cash flow to finance the other. I'm going to run a book of high end escorts here in Amsterdam. I've already started moves in that direction. Dom's going to be my major-domo. As well as my talent scout." He raises his brows and nods short and sharp. "You with me?"

Orlando clearly is not. Some fragment of information in the last thirty seconds has tripped him up, furrowing his brows and causing his gaze to become lost somewhere just below Elijah's chin. 

At that moment, there's no point in continuing the conversation. Elijah leans forward and kisses him softly. "Here, crawl into bed while I grab the wine and something to nosh on, and I'll tell you what plans I've got on the go."

*

By the time Elijah returns from the kitchen with an opened bottle of red and a tray with fruits and cheeses, Orlando has already undressed, his clothes neatly folded and draped on a towel over the wall of the oiled teak screen that still stands in the corner. He has propped himself against the pillows of their new bed, some sort of polished sateen sheet that is fabulously cool upon the skin and fabulously expensive upon the wallet turned back at his waist. Atop the jacquard flange that finishes the hem, his hands rest palms up. 

And looped loosely around his neck hangs a pale yellow silk tie. 

Elijah stops, taking everything in: the muscled sweep of skin shadowed by the lamplight, the glistening liquid of dark eyes staring back at him, the downy lustre of the citron tie. "Sentimentalist," he finally smiles.

One side of Orlando's mouth curls up. Slowly, he unknots the tie and offers it. "That part of what you said after wanting to deck me," he recalls. "There was something in there about a monumental fucking." 

Without a word, Elijah carefully places the wine and food on a nearby footstool. Settling one knee on the edge of the bed, he reaches for the tie. Their eyes meet, and Orlando raises a brow. 

"Give me your hands," Elijah tells him.

Orlando brings both arms up, wrists turned and pressed together. Elijah on the initiative makes him hard every time.

Elijah wraps the tie around one wrist, then the next, tugging them together, wrapping the silk between them before securing a knot that leaves the long thin end of the tie free. "Lift your arms," he tells Orlando. He secures both hands loosely to the top crossbar of the head board so that they comfortably rest atop Orlando's head. Then he gets up and in one fluid, billowing motion, strips the sheet from Orlando's waist past the foot of the bed.

Orlando's chin comes up as he swallows the gasp that wants to accompany his nakedness.

Elijah's eyes slowly travel the length of Orlando's body, warm and honey-toned in the low light. He reaches for the hem of his jumper and peels it over his head, eyes returning to their study as the sweater falls to the floor. He thumbs the button on his denims and unzips, letting the fabric slide down his legs and within seconds, he's naked. Uncapping a bottle of water that's been on the bedside table, he sits on the bed and brings it to Orlando's lips. A bit splashes when the bottle is pulled away, dripping onto Orlando's sternum, and Elijah dips to remove it with his tongue, mindful to ensure that none has found its way to the nearest nipple. Orlando twitches under the touch.

Moving the tray to the mattress and the bottle of wine to the bedside table, Elijah kneels geisha-like next to Orlando. "An American blue with a hint of pear," he describes, selecting a sliver of cheese and bringing it to Orlando's mouth, where it is taken along with the creamy fingertips that held it. "Fresh fig," he offers next, feeding Orlando a morsel of pink seeded flesh. 

Orlando moans in appreciation as the flavours mix in his mouth. "I predict a very fat future," he laments. 

Elijah smiles and pours a single glass of red wine which he brings to his nose to draw in its bouquet. "A cabernet franc," he tells Orlando. "I think you'll find it very nice with this cheese." He drinks from the glass, returns it to the bedside table and leans forward, one hand over Orlando's heart for support, the other hand cradling Orlando's nape as his lips press and open Orlando's, tilting his head back. Orlando accepts it and swallows but not without a rivulet running to his jaw and down his throat.

"We mustn't soil the new bed," Orlando whispers as Elijah licks up the spill.

"That's exactly what we must do," Elijah replies. His lips trace the descent of tendon in Orlando's neck to where it meets and marries the muscle of his chest, mouthing further over its swell to a dusky, hardened nipple. He flicks it with his tongue, then bites, making Orlando freeze on a drawn breath. He exhales when Elijah tongues it soothingly. 

Elijah gets up to move the tray to the foot stool. When he returns, he straddles Orlando, cock to cock and balls grazing. It's a nice moment, the two of them simply looking at each other, contented grins passing back and forth along with nipping kisses. Elijah likes the vulnerability of Orlando being tied. He knows that this is his particular kink, one borne of having been too often on the receiving end, too often the one without freedom, if not control. His hand suddenly flashes up and fists Orlando's hair, sharply pulling back his head. He smiles, his mouth inches above Orlando's, eyes bearing down on eyes widened by surprise. "Is this okay?" he asks.

It takes a moment for Orlando to figure out Elijah's alpha attitude. "Yeah," he smiles, a calm finding its way back to his face. "You can be a bit of a pushy thing when you're horny."

"Remember how you confessed to me how part of the turn on for you was me being a whore?"

"When we met, yes. Not later."

"I stand corrected, that's right. Well, part of the turn-on for me is bondage. And look what we have here. You actually _asking_ to be taken captive." He nuzzles Orlando's ear. "And so I have." He sucks the lobe between his lips before closing his teeth over it, just enough to hurt a little. Orlando whimpers, not entirely comfortably.

"You need to know that while I was accustomed to fuck men who meant very little to me, I was still accustomed to fuck men on a regular basis. So I want you to understand that I may have certain needs that are rather habitual, that require your ardent attention, Orlando. It only stands to reason that you may not always be inclined to oblige me, given my bunny-fucking nature. If that is the case, I may, from time to time..." Elijah nips down Orlando's neck to his shoulder, leaving little white teeth marks that cause Orlando to audibly wince, "need to… _persuade_ you to make sure I have your undivided attention, do you follow?"

"Are you telling me," Orlando squirms, "that you would tie me down and abuse my body whether I wanted it or not?" He gasps as Elijah shifts downwards, sharp little teeth nipping at the thin skin over his ribs and his retreating tummy. 

Elijah settles on his elbows and stomach between Orlando's splayed legs. "I am." 

"Then if you are so depraved," Orlando breathes as teeth pinch the tender flesh where torso meets leg. "I would have to make sure that didn't happen, that your needs were met elsewise."

Elijah's face hovers above Orlando's cock, breathing heavily on it, concentrating to see if that alone is enough to make it stir towards his lips. He's like a cat by a mouse hole, intent to wait. "And how would you do that?" he asks, words puffing against rigid skin.

Orlando fights to keep his hips from canting upward in search of contact, knowing that the anticipation of Elijah's soft lips is as stimulating as the reality. "I would tie you down in return," he moans. "And then I would strap a vibrator along the underside of your all too greedy cock and leave it running while I went about my business -- watched a movie, cleaned the refrigerator, bought beer. I'd leave you to lie there, coming and coming, unable to escape the torment of skin too sensitive for touch. That might just give you back a bit of your own medicine."

Elijah looks up the length of Orlando's body, his face expanding into an enormous gap-toothed grin. "Oh shit, Orlando. You've been surfing the porn sites, I can tell."

Orlando starts to laugh at how capably he has just buried the last few minutes of dirty talk. "Okay, so I'm busted. You haunted my dreams for two years. What was I supposed to do?" 

Elijah snuggles his shoulders under Orlando's thighs. "We wasted so much time. Did you beat off thinking about me?"

"Every night. You?"

"Not once."

"You cut me to the quick," Orlando rues.

"I replaced every face I had to bed with yours."

"Somewhere in that statement, I believe there's a compliment," Orlando considers, eyes scrunched. His smile fades as he looks down his body. "Don't make me wait any longer, Elijah," he says soberly. 

Eyes on each other, Elijah descends further beneath Orlando's thighs, wetting his lips before closing them softly over one of Orlando's balls. Orlando twitches and moans as it is sucked, the tip of Elijah's tongue excruciatingly delicate as it carves circles and caresses. By the time Elijah has finished with the other testicle and begun licking a slow ascent along the distended vein of Orlando's cock, he's needed to bring his hands around to cradle Orlando's hips so that he won't thrust up towards his mouth. 

"Come on," Orlando pleads. 

Elijah replies by angling his head and taking Orlando deep, flexing his throat, then backing off a little for breath before doing it again.

"Fuck," Orlando bites out on a spasm, the head board rattling as he realizes he can't grip Elijah's head. He laughs, but it's more of a whimper. 

It's a spectacular blowjob and it continues without respite for minutes too long for Orlando to track because all he can focus on is the torturous moment each time Elijah pulls off and the exquisite relief when he descends. Elijah is well placed to observe Orlando's appreciation. He can feel the gratitude with each enthusiastic leap within his mouth and against his lips. When they begin to cluster and the noises coming from Orlando take on a slightly panicked sound, he pulls off and closes his hand over Orlando's angry cock. "Should we dial it down?" he asks.

Orlando rolls his head to face Elijah. "Oh yeah," he groans.

Elijah gets up and stands beside the bed so that he can flex his back. He serves Orlando more water and wine, this time from a glass, and partakes himself. He picks up a paper napkin from the cheese tray and lays it on the bed. Then he opens the drawer of the bedside table and pulls from it a scarf, Orlando's beloved pot of lubricant, several rubber bands, a tiny remote control and a small lipstick tube vibrator. 

"You're joking," Orlando says.

"Actually, you were the one who brought it up," Elijah smiles, sliding his hand across Orlando's chest and leaning in to kiss him. It's a leisurely tangle of tongues and slipperiness. "And I'm so glad you did," Elijah whispers as they pull apart. Orlando strains forward to kiss him once more. 

What once wore a tie is now treated to a strip of earth-toned fine silk as Elijah fashions a slip knot around the base of Orlando's cock, crossing the ends behind his testicles, then in front and finishing with a knot in back. He flips the switch on the remote to make sure the charge in the vibrator is strong and to get a bead on the setting, then shuts it down and throws it on the mattress. He picks up the rubber band and vibrator.

"You ever wear that?" Orlando asks.

Elijah glances up. "Oh yeah." 

"It's not too intense?" Orlando asks apprehensively.

"It is," Elijah assures him. "But in a good way." He lays the vibrator against the underside of Orlando's cock, making sure it comes in contact with the frenulum, then slips the first band over both, securing the base, and a second rubber band to secure the top. The fit is snug but not tight. Then he takes himself in hand and looks up at Orlando. "You able to help a brother?"

"Get up here," Orlando tells him.

Elijah knee-walks until he's straddling Orlando's chest, cock in hand. He looks down at the dark eyes staring back at him and taps his cockhead against the underside of Orlando's chin. "Can I tell you again how much I like you tied?" he says. "It's nice knowing that I can make you do what I wish."

Orlando imagines it a rare lay indeed that has allowed Elijah to enjoy sex on his own terms, that the symbolism of control must be particularly stimulating. "Come on, little rabbit," he says. "Feed me." 

Elijah grips the hair atop Orlando's head, angling his throat and sliding inwards slowly, further than he has before. He lets Orlando know what to expect, how to open more. Watching Orlando take him is as pleasurable as feeling the drag and pull on his cock, and he closes his eyes, letting his head drop back as he slides in and out.

Once he's become hard, he backs off and settles once more onto Orlando's lap. "Let me taste," he says, arms wrapping through Orlando's, tongue pressing in to explore every recess of his mouth. "Can you taste yourself on me?" he asks. "Your mouth tastes of my cock. I swear, if I could open my veins and flow right into you, I would."

The openness and spontaneity of this admission takes Orlando by surprise, and he wonders again at the liberating impact of Elijah's decision. 

Elijah moves down his body, lifting and spreading Orlando's legs, draping them over his thighs as he kneels between them. He dips into the ointment and greases his fingers, then takes himself in one hand, coating himself thickly. He slides the fingers of his other hand along Orlando's crease, fingering his hole, first with one digit, then three, slipping and swirling, Orlando's neck arching as they watch each other. 

"Go on," Orlando breathes.

Elijah lines up and presses forward. Except for the first time they met and their wild night in the Hampshire countryside, anal penetration isn't something Elijah is much accustomed to giving Orlando, but neither of them would know it by the way Orlando opens up and invites him in like a warm and welcoming homecoming. "Oh God," Elijah gasps, bowing his head. 

He reaches for the napkin to clean his hands before he slicks them again. Stroking the tender skin around Orlando's cock, being careful not to touch it, he sweeps his hands out over the hip bones, across the flat of Orlando's stomach and up the centre of his chest, fanning out over his nipples, where his fingertips flick and play while his hips piston with agonizing languor. 

"Christ, that feels amazing," Orlando sighs, pelvis bearing down to meet each inbound stroke. It's a slow build, all the blood rushing to meet wherever Elijah touches him. Elijah slides the tips of his greasy fingers over the head of Orlando's silk-trussed cock, plucking at the tip and splaying back down, plucking anew and descending. "Fuck, fuck," Orlando cries out, arching.

"Tell me what you feel," Elijah asks.

"Unbelievably sensitive," Orlando pants, arching up into the hand painting circles on his chest while his hips attempt to pull away from Elijah's brilliantly vexing fingers.

"I added something to the lotion," Elijah says. 

"No…kidding." 

Elijah's slides his fingers beneath and around the small vibrator, then picks up the remote with his other hand. "Here we go," he says, pressing the _on_ button, watching Orlando.

The vibration is weak, just a comfortable buzz that Orlando finds adds a pleasant itch to the sensations running along his penis. He closes his eyes to focus on them, particularly where they abut the tender tissue just beneath the crown of his cock.

"Are you comfortable?" Elijah asks, and Orlando smiles and nods. 

"I'm going to set it to _wave_ and bump the level up just a bit," Elijah tells him. "It may feel a little intense at first."

Orlando squirms as the new level begins to roll along his length, his eyes flashing open towards the ceiling, wrists tugging at the crossbar. Elijah scoops his cock to cradle it, stroking the head. "Not helping," Orlando bites out but Elijah knows it's doing exactly that. With each drop to the valley of the wave, the arch in Orlando's back settles back, only to rise with the vibration's crest. 

"You'll plateau in a bit," Elijah tells him. "You'll adjust." He places the remote nearby on the mattress and resumes his massage of Orlando's torso and gentle thumbing of his glans.

Orlando moans but already he knows that's true; he can feel the intense burning that only a moment ago had made him want to jump out of his skin giving way to the pleasant heated itch that makes him very much want to stay in it. With each rising wave, his cock lifts and then subsides into Elijah's palm, the blood pooling in it. "Everything feels so fucking amazing," he murmurs, his eyes closing again. "You inside me, your hands on me. My cock feels enormous." 

Elijah slides both hands out to Orlando's waist, gripping so that he can hold him while he drives his hips harder. "You look amazing," he says. "Like you did the first afternoon we met, when we had our five o'clock fuck right here in this room. Your skin was polished with sweat, all golden brown, the curls in your hair clinging to your face and neck, your eyes soft from you being half fucked to death. I kept looking at you, thinking you were like sexual crack, the kind of guy that a person would just keep wanting more of. You had this flush in your cheeks and at the top of your chest just as you do now, and your cock…" He stops, his head thrown back and teeth clenched, hips just kicking it, and for a moment he thinks he's done, that the storm gathering behind his balls is about to break wide open. But it doesn't. He pulls it back, eyes closed, heels digging into his perineum, grateful for all the yoga bafflegab that Dom has managed to impart into some corner of his consciousness, and presently, his eyes crack a window onto the carnal epiphany that is Orlando.

"Oh God, let me come," Orlando begs, echoing another time on another day.

"It's not that tight," Elijah says about the scarf. "You can blow right through it. I got it more to match your eyes."

"Oh fuck right off," Orlando sobs, but he knows that's exactly what he's going to do because he can see the horizon of his orgasm, no, he can _feel_ it roaring towards him like a tsunami as the waves begin to build within, pushed along by the vibrator and Elijah's cock notching all of his tender bits inside.

When he does come, the pitch of the vibrator signals it as much as the pulse of semen, ebbing and rising with the spasms. Elijah reaches for the remote and turns it off, then folds over Orlando, wrapping his arms around his back and pulling him down onto his cock, his tummy and chest sliding against the slick of lotion and cum. He nuzzles one of Orlando's nipples, which Orlando twitches away from with a moan. He focuses on small residual tics and twinges around his cock that are the aftermath of Orlando's orgasm, squeezing and releasing him like a soft glove. And without having to pursue it in any way, his own orgasm erupts in a near blinding spasm that forces a grunt up and out of his throat.

They lie there, listening to heartbeats and breaths and far away city sounds, one folded onto the other. Orlando has slid down the pillows, and his arms hang limply from the top cross rail. Elijah reluctantly pushes himself up and kisses Orlando's neck before pulling out. He picks up the napkin and wipes himself, then tidies Orlando, removing the vibrator and scarf after cleaning him, tossing the soiled paper to the floor when he's done. He needs to move around the bed so that he can untie Orlando's wrists, and when he's finished, he sits with his feet on the floor next to the bedside table and uncaps a water bottle. He drinks nearly half of it before he places the bottle in Orlando's extended hand.

" _Now_ I'm hungry," Orlando says.

Elijah reaches for the cheese tray and picks up the entire piece of blue that's been air drying. "I was just thinking the same," he says, half of the cheese disappearing in his first bite while he pours a new glass of wine. "Eat," he says around a mouthful of food, holding what remains to Orlando's mouth, where it too vanishes as quickly. Elijah licks his own fingers this time.

"I was thinking more of a steak, some meat, something _massive,_ " Orlando says dreamily, his eyes locked on some unseen banquet in the middle distance, cheese cloying his speech. "With heaps of grilled peppers and mushrooms and a baked potato just running with butter and soured cream, maybe sautéed onions." He accepts the filled wine glass Elijah has passed him, taking a mouthful to rinse the cheese. "Garlic bread, nice green salad." His stomach rumbles as if on cue.

"If I were to move to London, would I be able to stay with you?"

Barely ninety minutes have passed since Orlando stepped out a cab and into Elijah's arms. In that time, Orlando has learned that the man who seemed beyond his future hopes -- whose body was not and never would be his alone to worship and enjoy – has declared that all of this has changed, that they are – for now – exclusive to one another. He is several years past a monogamous relationship himself, the last being the latest of several long term affairs since his college clubbing years, when a suck and a fuck were the order of the day. 

But Elijah? When, Orlando wonders, has Elijah been involved in anything approaching a long term monogamous relationship? As an adult. Because the truth is, Orlando has no idea that Elijah has any experience with romantic entanglements beyond the hint that he is a fuck buddy to his friend Dom and a sugar baby to Orlando's good client Ian McKellen. Those can hardly justify anything resembling a long term relationship. And forget about monogamy. Based on the bits of pillow talk that Elijah has shared with him, Orlando just needs to do the math to know that Elijah's been tricking since his teens. 

And now, not only is he pledging his troth to Orlando, but he wants _to move in with him?_

"That's a long pause," Elijah observes, casually picking up another piece of cheese and bringing it to Orlando's mouth. "Here, since your mouth is hanging open anyway. _Cendrillion,_ Cinderella cheese." His gaze floats to Orlando's eyes. "I promise to return your glass slipper and have you tucked in by midnight," he adds, trying for the joke and coming up lame.

Orlando accepts the offering. He's studying Elijah, his mind searching for clues he can't seem to find so that he might know where to steer this conversation. All he can sense is a jittery edge beneath a seeming blanket of calm. 

"It's not a problem if not," Elijah continues easily. "I've applied for a cooking course in London, which starts next month, runs for the next six. It was either London or Paris, and London seemed…to offer more. It's pretty intensive. I would be willing to split on the rent. Or not, if you'd rather I not stay. I can find a place –"

"Lay with me, and let's talk," Orlando says quietly. While Elijah sets the glasses aside and crawls into bed, he retrieves the sheet and pulls it over them both so that they can lie covered, face to face. 

"I wanted to tell you this right from the start," Elijah says in a rush.

Orlando exhales heavily and nods. "I know you did. I was the one who reset the program."

"I was the one who let you."

"That's because our cocks got involved." Orlando smiles. "So tell me about this course. Tell me about your plans." 

And so Elijah recounts how he has spent the past two weeks setting off on this new path, first quietly in London with planning and enquiries and then more actively in Amsterdam, setting up meetings, moving funds. This new future is so charted and gaining structure in his mind that he has to remind himself that what he expected from Orlando in terms of happiness and enthusiasm might have to wait a little longer. 

"You don't waste time," Orlando says when he is done. He's pleasantly surprised by Elijah's level of ambition, although he shouldn't be – everything about Elijah has seemed exact, controlled, finessed. Orlando understands those motivations – this is how he has spent his own working life. He has questions about Elijah's level of involvement in this escort enterprise, and he tells Elijah that it's time he met Dom.

"It is," Elijah agrees. "But you need to know…" He hesitates, searching for the right words. 

"That Dom's jealous."

Elijah looks at him. "Yeah."

"So he should be, Elijah," Orlando says. "He wouldn't be your good friend if he weren't. He's protective of you. He understands you and what you do better than anyone, me included."

Elijah presses his lips together and nods. "I know. It hurts me to hurt him."

"All the more reason that he and I should meet. If we can, let's do it tomorrow."

"London," Elijah says, returning to the point of their conversation.

"London," Orlando replies. "My flat. You and I bumping into each other in it. You've seen the size of it. What kind of workspace would you need?"

"The kitchen and my laptop. Your taste buds. I'd be out of the house every day. I'd have to return to Amsterdam each weekend."

"You giving up this flat?"

"Actually, I'd be drawing rent on it, you know, as business revenue."

Orlando looks a little puzzled before his brows rise and fall. "Oooohhh," he sighs, understanding. "Not our new bed."

Elijah nods with a faux pout. "Sadly so. But always know we took it on its maiden run."

"Would you stay here weekends? I mean, would you _sleep_ here?"

Elijah strokes his cheek. "If I were with you, no. If I were on my own and it was empty, yes. That's why I have maid service. But I'm thinking it wouldn't be necessary. I'd be home by nightfall."

_Home._

"So, London," Orlando says.

"London," Elijah repeats.

There's a moment of silence before Orlando's face slowly transforms into a smile of absolute serenity. "Why did you even think there would be any question? Yes, Elijah. _Yes."_

*

The next morning, Orlando is the first one out of the shower and therefore the first to start pulling the bed linens together after he has dressed. "We made a bloody mess of this," he says as Elijah walks naked into the room, cum stains, grease smears and wine dots marking the oyster-coloured Diamante bottom sheet. "Looks like a Rorschach test. Should we change it now?"

"I think we should frame it as art," Elijah says, "along with the first pair I saved. Part of our Commemorative Courtship series."

"Do you think Ian would hang them at the gallery?" Orlando wonders distractedly before they both freeze and look at each other.

"Don't you ever fucking mention it to him!" Elijah warns because he knows exactly where Ian would hang it, but Orlando is already face-first in a 200€ pillow, laughing his ass off.


End file.
